World Apart
by shatteredglass109
Summary: In a futuristic world in the ruins of the east coast of the United States, two very different people living two very different lives meet by an unlikely event. Max, a powerful military agent, and Fang, the most wanted criminal by the government. FAX.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own MR, just the plot. This goes for the entire story.**

 **Fang POV:**

The small sound bomb is clenched tight in my hands as I fight to keep my anxiety down. This is just another one of your crazy sabotages, I tell myself. It isn't as if you haven't done something bad before. Yeah right, like I've done any good things. I'm the most wanted criminal in the nation of Provincia, and it is my life goal to make sure their war against the Commonwealth is doomed. Once the Commonwealth takes over, everything will be fine.

I nearly yelp, the bomb burning my hand. What am I thinking, holding this damn thing for so long? The small fire I lit is almost to its destination. With expert aim and strength, I toss the bomb somewhere to my left where it promptly explodes with a resounding boom. The guards' heads whip around and they rush off into the distance. Time to have some fun.

From my pocket, I produce tiny sticks of TNT. I do a quick inventory. Forty seven. Perfect. I light up six of them and slip them all under the fighter jet scheduled to fly to the warfront within a few minutes. Well, it isn't going to be flying anywhere any time soon. As quickly as I can, I run, which is pretty fast, way faster than any average person.

I make it to the abandoned gate I first got in through just as the six sticks I lit explode. There is a series of loud booms as the TNT sticks I placed explode in a chain reaction. There is no time to look back at my handiwork. The guards must know I am here. Who else is crazy enough to blow up a large fighter jet?

As I run, I nearly trip over a fallen log, but I manage to keep my balance and continue running. Suddenly, bullets whiz by me. "He's getting away!" someone yells. A bullet comes by my ear so close, I hear a buzzing sound, it nicks a cut at the tip. My ear stings. I will have to get Angel to clean it later. Without warning, there is a terrible, sharp pain in my left shoulder, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

The shouts grow more distant as I keep running until they fade away to silence. I start to slow down once I know for sure that no one is following me. Once I start running on concrete instead of dirt, I know I'm in the city. This is where I'll be in most danger, so I slip into the shadows. I'm thankful for my olive skin, dark hair and eyes. They help me blend into darkness better than most people.

Smiling, I think back to my little gift to Provincia. They'll find fingerprints on the match I have thrown on the ground, but my fingerprints won't do them any good. When they run the prints to find a match in their databases, they won't find anything. That's why they hate me. This is why I'm not the most dangerous criminal, but the most wanted. I make Provincia look bad by always slipping through their fingers every time.

Another reason why they hate me is because Provincia has no idea what I look like. Sometimes, I see my wanted posters plastered onto practically every wall in the city. The one I pass goes like this:

FANG, MOST WANTED CRIMINAL. $200,000 PROVINCIAL DOLLARS FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO HIS CAPTURE.

There is a picture of a blond boy with brown rimmed glasses grinning toothily at the camera. A poster I saw before had a boy with blue eyes and no hair at all. Sometimes I'm white, sometimes black, yellow, or brown, or anything else the government thinks I look like.

I lower my head as soon as I see a patrol guard pass my way. Trying to act casual, I whistle a little tune that I don't know the name of. Some long lost lullaby that was forgotten after the United States teared itself apart. The guard gives me a bored look and move on. I release a quiet breath of anticipation that I didn't know I have been holding. A small smile tugs at my lips as I see a large crowd standing in front of a building. I like crowds. It's safer within them because if I'm being chased, it will be harder to find me within a sea of people.

The moment I see a familiar run down building, I find the nearest window sill and within seconds, I have scaled the three story building. Just as expected, Angel sits in the shadows of the chimney. She immediately notices the blood near my shoulder, and she tsks in disapproval. "Shirt off," Angel commands. I obey and let my ten year old little sister work her healing magic. She pours some chemicals over the bullet wound which stung like hell, but I manage to endure it. Angel studies the little hole carefully.

"You should be glad the bullet passed right through," she says, "or else you would be in much worse pain than right now." I smile weakly and ruffle her blond hair that shines like gold in the afternoon sun.

"Thanks, Ange. What would I do without you?" Angel begins to tick the possibilities off her fingers.

"You would bleed to death, die, get infections-" I glare lovingly at her.

"I didn't mean literally," I say. Angel giggles.

"My point is," she says matter a factly. "You'd be helpless without me." Angel finishes bandaging up my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her despite my shoulder protesting. She snuggles into me and we stay like that for several minutes. Angel is the most dear thing in the world to me, ever since our parents died in a car crash. I had been ten, Angel five. I still remember that dark stormy night on the bridge.

We had been crossing it when an out of control drunk truck driver crashed into our SUV. I wince as the flashback comes to me.

 _Rain patters on the roof of our car, and I glance at Angel's sleeping form. Dad is humming a romance song while Mom reads a book. She uses the dim light from above to read the tiny font of the thick book she holds in her hands. I squint, trying to see out the window, but there is too much rain and it's too dark. Mom turns to me, looking away from her book in the first time in an hour._

 _"Honey," she says gently. "Make sure Angel has her blanket on." In her nap, Angel had tossed and turned, causing the blanket I had wrapped around her earlier to fall to the floor. Just as I reached down to retrieve the blanket, there is the sound of wet tires screeching and frantic honking. Angel jolts awake as I see headlights appear through the darkness and rain. Dad swerves the car to avoid the truck, but it is too late._

 _I scream as the truck collides into the front of our car. The windshield shatters, letting in a torrent of rain, and the entire front caves in. The force of the impact sends our car spinning off the bridge…and into the lake below. Water immediately gushes in through the windshield, and the car begins to fill rapidly with water. Angel is wailing, and silent tears run down my cheeks. One look at my parents tell me it's too late to save them. Angel is the only member left._

 _I have to save her. "Angel," I say in my best calm voice, but it sounds shaky. "When I say go, get out this car and swim as fast as you can to the surface." Angel nods, taking a deep breath of air just as the car hits the bottom of the lake. The water has reached our hips. I rethink my calculations._

 _"No!" I blurt out. "Don't hold your breath. The pressure will cause your lungs to burst." Angel exhales. "Ready? Three, two, one, GO!" Simultaneously, we shove open the car doors. Water immediately fills every inch of the car. I spring out of the car. Everything is dark, and the water is freezing cold. My breath is forced out of me in tiny bubbles. My ears are screaming in agony as the pressure slowly crushes me._

 _I look_ _around frantically for Angel, but the water is black and too dark for me to see anything. The only thing I can do is swim my way to the top. I can't see the surface. As I ascend, I feel myself becoming lightheaded. I'm about to black out. I'll never make it. Just as my eyes close, a hand grabs my arms and hauls me upward. I'm pulled onto a rescue boat with a shivering Angel. Two police officers help us get warm. We even get hot chocolate. "Are you the only two?" one asks. I look down, tears welling in my eyes._

 _"Yes," I say softly. "We are the only two left."_

"Fang?" I'm snapped back to the present. Angel looks at me with concern. "Are you alright?" I notice that my cheeks are wet. Angel looks at me sympathetically. "Are you remembering?"

I nod. Angel hugs me tighter. "It's okay," she murmurs. "I'm right here." I know she is. As much as I hated to break from her embrace, I force myself to stand up. Shrugging my shirt on, I say, "I'm hungry. Wait right here. I'll be back with food." Angel watches as I jump over the roof. She knows I'll be fine.

 **Well, this is my second fanfic since my first one kinda failed...hope you like this one! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Max POV:**

"Wrong answer," Commander Martinez snaps. She strikes the POW viciously across the face. His head snaps to the side, his cheek imprinted with the red outline of her hand. "I asked you, what is your name?"

The man chokes out, "Alexander Robert Mander." Commander Martinez smiles sweetly.

"That's better. Now, Mr. Mander, can you please tell me why the Commonwealth has sent you here to our glorious nation of Provincia?" The man spits at her boots.

"Why should I tell you anything?" he sneers. I roll my eyes. Commander Martinez had asked me if I could attend this interrogation so I can learn how to interrogate people. So far, I know how to do everything she's said. Suddenly, Commander Martinez leans forward and whispers something in the man's ear. Immediately, he begins to thrash and scream, but the chains binding him to the chair restrain him from coming at the commander with all his fury.

He begins to howl in rage. "What did you say to him?" I ask, bewildered. Commander Martinez smiles.

"I told him that if he didn't start cooperating with us, our warships will attack the city his family lives in." She sighs. Turning to me, she says, "Agent Ride, I'm tired. I think you'll be better at squeezing out information. Feel free to do whatever you want with him."

I don't want to torture this man, but then I remember that his country, the Commonwealth, murdered my parents. Yes, that gives me more reason to hurt him. A feral grin crosses my face. "With pleasure," I say. I approach Mr. Mander and ask, "Why were you sent here?"

He glares defiantly up at me. I shrug. "Suit yourself." I take one of his fingers and pull out my knife. I make a quick slash, and the severed finger falls to the floor. The POW screams in pain, and blood drips from the stump. "I'll ask you again," I snarl. "Why has the Commonwealth sent you here?" When he doesn't answer, I hold up his hand and instantly his mouth starts running.

"I was sent here to gather information," he stutters. I narrow my eyes.

"Information on what?" I say. The man looks like he wants to keep quiet, but one glance at my knife is all it takes for him to keep talking.

"Information on the military," he says. "Like where you'll attack next."

"Is that all?" I ask. He nods vigorously. I turn back to Commander Martinez.

"Kill him," is all she says.

I lean forward and say, "Mr. Mander, I'll make you a deal. If you can hold your breath for seven minutes, I won't shoot you."

The POW gasps and cries out, "Thank you! You're so kind!" He starts blubbering and I sigh.

"You're time starts right now." He snaps to attention and holds his breath. The seconds tick by. Thirty seconds, a minute. A minute and a half, two minutes. Three. Four. Damn, this guy was taking longer than I thought. Most healthy people can only hold their breath for up to two minutes. Pretty soon, the POW's face was turning blue. Air was escaping out of his lips. Finally, after five minutes and eleven seconds, the air comes whooshing out of the POW like air from a blow dryer. He pants, sucking oxygen back into his lungs like crazy.

I make sure no emotion is on my face as I raise my gun and aim. A shot, the body falls. I exit the room at Commander Martinez's dismissal. It is time to head to training.

I arrive just as Ella gives a whack on Iggy's nose. Immediately it gushes blood, spilling onto his shirt front. "Ella!" Iggy shouts. "You said you would go easy on me!" Ella smirks.

"Well, it looks like you luck ran out, Igs. I'm in the mood for winning." She spins around and sweeps her leg out, tripping Iggy so that he falls flat on his back. He moans from his prostrate position on the ground, and Ella jumps up and down, radiating victory. "I win! I win! I wiiiiiiinn!" Iggy groans and sits up, spitting out blood.

"Fine," he mumbles. "Ella Martinez, you win." Under his breath, he says, "For the tenth time in a row."

"Oh! Hi, Max," Ella says as she notices me standing in the doorway. "How was the interrogation?" I sit down wearily in a bench.

"Well, I got a bit of information out of the Provincia spy, and I cut

off one of his fingers." Ella raises her eyebrows.

"That's it? You just cut off a finger? There wasn't any begging for his life?" I grin.

"Well, I did make him a deal. I told him that if he could hold his breath for seven minutes, I wouldn't shoot him." I shrug. "Surprisingly, he made it to five minutes and eleven seconds before having to breathe again. Since he didn't make it to seven minutes, I shot him." Ella whistled.

"Five minutes and eleven seconds? Wow, that's pretty long. What is he, a swimmer?"

"I dunno," I say. The I smile. "Say, do you want to spar? I'm rather rusty since for the past week all I've been doing is sitting in rooms and torturing people." Ella backed up.

"No way, last time I agreed to spar with you, you gave me a black eye and cracked ribs." I grin sheepishly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I promise this time I'll go easy on you." Ella eyes me for a long moment before sighing.

"Fine. I'll spar with you as long as the only things I'm gonna get are a bloody nose and bruises. If you dare knock out my teeth," she says, smiling her perfect white teeth, "I suggest that you get a fake ID, plane tickets, and get your butt out of here."

"Alright," I say. "Let's go." Iggy, despite his bloody nose, volunteered to be referee. He has this huge crush on Ella, and I don't think he can stay away from her too long. Poor boy. I think they would make a really good couple, but Ella has not realized that he likes her yet. Oh well.

I allow Ella to have the first swing. She comes barreling at me, her fist raised. I neatly sidestep, and she whooshes by, her fist sinking into thin air. She whirls around, just in time for me to punch her in the stomach. Ella let's out a loud ooph, and she doubles over, gasping for air. I take the opportunity to jab her in a pressure point. Hard. Her body goes rigid, and she crumples to the ground. Her entire body is paralyzed except for her mouth.

"MAX!" Ella wails. "You promised me you would go easy!" I shrug.

"Yeah, isn't this much better than getting kicked and punched? Now, this will all be over as soon as you say I win."

"Okay, okay! Max Ride, champion sparer, who claims to be rusty, wins!" I grin.

"That's better. Just wait for about ten minutes, and your body won't be paralyzed anymore, although you might feel a bit numb for the rest of the day."

"Gee, thanks," mutters Ella. I help drag her to the sidelines and give her a bottle of water.

Under his breath I hear Iggy whisper to Ella, "She is so no rusty!" I smirk. For once, the Iggster is right, which is extremely rare since his brain is the size of a pea. The only reason he's even in the military is because he's a pyromaniac. Bombs galore!

"Well," I say. "I'm gonna go home to change." We bid our goodbyes, and I exit the training room. I was tempted to play around with the other equipment, but today I wanted a break.

 **Sorry, short chapter. Right now, I feel kind of guilty since a reviewer told me that this fanfiction reminded her/him of a book. Crap, I just read that book, and I guess it has been rubbing off me a lot. If any of you are interested, the book is Legend by Marie Lu. So, here's my solution. The book gives me the positions of Fang and Max, but the rest of the details are mine. Ugh, I don't know how to explain it, but it's like an event happens in a book. Then you use that event in your fanfiction, but you change the details. Would that be plagiarizing? Please let me know! I feel extremely guilty… Let's try for three reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I've decided that I'm gonna make these chapters longer from now on. Enjoy!**

 **Fang POV:**

I peek around the corner, eyeing the freshly baked pie sitting on the windowsill. A plump woman is bustling around inside the bakery, oblivious to the thief that is about to steal her pie. I sniff the air, the warm aroma of blueberries and bread filling my senses. Angel is going to be so estatic. I sneak across the little road quietly and crouch underneath the window sill. In one swift motion, the blueberry pie is in my clutches.

I savor the scent, a grin breaking across my face. Before I can sneak a bite of the pie, a voice says, "I wouldn't do that if I were you." My head whips around to glare at the newcomer. A street boy I've never seen before is leaning against the ally's brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Although he looks like my age, seventeen, a lit cigarette is resting on his bottom lip.

"Who are you, telling me what I can't do?" I demand. The boy uncrosses his arms and hold them up in surrender.

"Dude, just chill. All I'm doing is giving you a friendly warning."

I glare at him some more. "A friendly warning? About what?"

"The pie," he says, nodding towards the delicious savior in my hands. I frown, then burst out laughing.

"What, is it poisoned? Rotten? Expired? Oh, wait, don't tell me, it's…gonna explode!" To my surprise, the boy nodded.

"Precisely. That sneaky scoundrel of a baker. I watched everything unfold as soon as she took out that pie from the oven. I saw her put something small and black into the pie." I take a closer look at the pie.

There was no slit that I could see indicating that she had cut open the pie in order to slip the tiny explosive into. I shrug, figuring that this kid was just saying bull just for me to give up the pie. When I left, he would swoop in and claim the pie for himself. I roll my eyes. "Liar," I say. "Let me eat in piece. The boy shrugs.

"Suit yourself." With that, he is gone. I turn back to the pie and take a bite. Then the whole world turns red.

I am thrown to the grimy concrete ground as bits of brick shrapnel slice my skin. My head slams into a wall, and stars explode across my vision. I am blinded by a bright flash. A defeating roar. Then an excited shout. Someone yanks my arms and twists them painfully behind my back, pushing my face into the hard ground. "I've got him!" someone yells exuberantly. I grunt and buck, trying to throw whoever was sitting on my back off. Surprisingly, the person manages to stay on. I'm strong, so if I can't throw this person off, he or she must be extremely heavy. I twist my head around to try to get a better look at my captor.

In doing so, my cheek scrapes painfully across the ground, and I feel a warm liquid trickle down my face. I recognize the flowered baker's apron. I can't see her face, but I know that this is the same woman I stole the pie from. "Caught you, ya little thief!" she crows. "I've already called the police. They know how to take care of a scoundrel like you." The police. Oh, no. Despite the blonde dye I had rubbed onto my dark hair earlier, the government might still find out who I am.

The familiar wailing of sirens is getting closer. I have to escape. But how? My arms are of no use to me as they are pinned behind my back. My waist and legs are being held down by the plump woman's weight. That leaves just my torso. An idea forms in my head just as I see a police car pull up. It's red and blue lights flash, nearly blinding me. The door opens, and a blue clothed man steps out. His belt is crammed with things, weapons that he will most definitely use if he catches me. But he won't, at least, I hope so.

Faster than any of the two people intent on my capture can blink, I arch my back upward, slamming my head into the woman's nose. With a surprised cry of pain, she topples backward off my body, thus allowing me to jump to my feet. The area of my head that I used to bop her nose feels tender. There will most likely be a bruise there, but that doesn't matter as long as I make it back to Angel, hopefully with my body intact and free of bullets. My shoulder throbs as I break into a run. Just thinking of being shot gives me more incentive to run faster.

Behind me, the police officer pulls out his gun from its holster and trains it on me while he runs. The first bullet is shot, barely missing my side. I duck as the next whizzes over my head. I turn down ally after ally, hoping to loose the police officer. The last thing I want to do is lead him to my little sister. Gradually, my speed pulls me out of this sticky situation. I circle back, making sure he isn't following me. When I am satisfied that I am alone, I trace back my steps to the building where Angel and I are camping out.

I land lightly on the roof after I scale the side of the building. As usual, she waits for me behind the chimney. Angel eyes my blackened shirt front. Well, rather the smoke rising from the cloth since my shirt is already black. **(does that make sense?)** "What did you do this time?" she asks, exasperated. I give her a tight smile.

"Let's just say this city houses a crazy explosive-loving fat baker woman." Angel arches her eyebrows, but doesn't say anything else. Instead, she stands up, walks over to where I'm standing, and promptly slaps me across the face. "Ow!" I complain. "What was that for?" Angel crosses her arms over her chest.

"Hello? I sent you out to get food. The only thing you brought back is bits on your face that looks suspiciously like blueberry pie." I groan. She is right. I've come back empty handed, and it is already three in the afternoon. Lunch was supposed to be eaten hours ago. My stomach grumbles in protest. I need food.

"Oh, geez, Angel, I'm so sorry! I guess the exploding pie kind of took my mind off things." Angel sighs.

"Exploding pies? Oh no, your problems are getting worse. First was the vomiting donkey, next the angry bird, then the mutant ahem, plants, and now this." I ignore her and jump over the roof again. I land lightly on my feet and scan my surroundings. This part of San Francisco is deserted except for a few old ladies strolling by who giggle at the sight of me. I ignore them and continue on my little scavenger hunt. Gradually as I get closer and closer to the heart of the city, more and more people appear. Vendors begin to line the crammed streets on both sides. Everywhere there are people shouting out words, like, 'These lucky charms are only $1.99!', or, 'Sale on T-shirts! Buy one get one free!' All that junk.

A teenage girl looking bored at a hot pink makeup vendor perks up as I pass by, and she gives me a seductive smile. I wink back. She gasps, and blushes a deep red. She's pretty with blond hair and ocean blue eyes, but not my type of girl. Way too skinny for me.

Finally, I catch sight of a hot dog vendor with a man who is chatting a million miles a minute. Ha! Quick as lightning, I snatch two hot dogs from the sizzling grill and stuff them inside my hoodie. Thankfully, the hot dog man doesn't seem to notice that two hot dogs have mysteriously disappeared. I back up quickly, and melt into the shadows. When I am a good distance from the hot dog vendor, I allow myself a snicker or two. Stupid. The man should know better. There are many street people like me who have mastered the art of stealing, here in San Francisco.

When I get back to Angel, her adorable blue eyes light up in delight at the sight of my stolen goodies. Immediately, she snatches a hot dog from my grasp and devours it like a wolf. I clear my throat. "Ahem, you're welcome."

"Thenks shoe," she mumbles between bites of hot dog. At first I frown at the lack of gratefulness, but then I grin. It's hard to stay mad at cute little Angel. Just looking at her small face framed with golden curls is enough to cause me to break into my rare smiles I reserve just for her. I take a bite of my own hot dog, grateful that it is still hot. It warms my empty stomach.

"Mmm," I say, wiping bits of hot dog off my face. "Delicious!" Angel is now sitting down, picking at her teeth with a toothpick to try to get any extra hot dog out.

"I agree," she says. "What do you want to do now?" I shrug.

"I dunno. I can't cause trouble for Provincia yet since they are hot on the lookout for me, so I have to lie pretty low. I was thinking of perhaps a movie?" Angel nodded.

"That sounds good." She studies my hair. "Some of that blond is coming off. You might want to redo the color." I agree, and grab a spray can of yellow dye out of my duffel bag. Angel does a faceplant.

"Are you serious? That's what you've been using? I thought you used hair dye!"

"I did!" I argue. Then I take one look at the label and nearly faint. It reads: **RANDOM RAINBOW PAINTERS. COLOR: YELLOW**. I nearly scream, and I frantically start rubbing my hair, desperate to get the paint off. "Gahh!" I wail. "My hair! My beautiful soft silky hair! This will take me forever to get off!" Angel snorts.

"Well, if you stopped shampooing so much, maybe this would be as bad as it seems." She watches as I frantically scrub at my head before sighing. "You know what, just pull your hood over your head and keep your head low. Now, what movie did you say you want to watch?"

 **LINE BREAK**

I watch placidly as the robot rips another human's head off while Angel cowers beside me and buries her face into my shoulder. Now, I'm thinking twice that maybe I shouldn't have taken her to see an R movie. Angel whimpers once again as another human is brutally killed. When the movie has finally come to an end with the robots standing on top of a humongous pile of freshly slain humans, Angel's legs are a blur as she high-tails it out of the theater. I find her huddled beside a pot of geraniums, and I smile. "Hey, it's just fake." Angel shudders.

"Well, curse those makeup artists." I laugh. Angel must be talking about all the blood and gore. I put my arm around her.

"Are you going to have nightmares?" I ask, concerned. Angel gives me a timid nod. I smile reassuringly at her.

"Don't worry, Ange," I murmur into her soft hair. "I'll be there to protect you." She grins back, and right on cue her stomach lets out a loud grumble. I stare unbelievingly at her. "Are you serious?" I complain. "You literally just ate a hot dog!" She frowns, then giggles.

"I guess the movie scared me a little too much," she says. Instantly, I'm at the nearest food truck and come back with popcorn, pizza, and Coke. I take a bite of the cheese which is still warm and gooey. Angel slurps her soda loudly, and a few people turn to glare at my little sister. I return their looks with a fierce glare of my own, and they cower and go back to their own business. Just as I'm about to take another huge gulp of Coke, a piercing scream splits the peaceful tranquility.

My head snaps up to see a woman wearing long and elegant furs pressed up against a brick wall. Her brown eyes are wide with fear as she stares at a black clothed figure pointing something metallic at her. I don't have to squint in order to know what the object is. A gun. "Nobody moves!" shouts the figure. "Or else I'll shoot her!" Honestly, I couldn't care less whether the woman died or lived, but I had to do something. I racked my brain for ideas, but none came.

"I want everyone to file in a single line and hand me all of his or her money," the figure continues. "Anyone try to do something funny, I shoot!" I quickly analyze this robber. Male, probably in his thirties. He has a natural Provincian accent.

Just by looking at his stance when he holds the gun is enough to tell me that this guy is no match for me. Well, unless he gets a lucky shot. Hopefully, that won't happen. Everyone, clearly afraid of the gun, starts to file in a line. I curse as I realize that the nearest police station is nearly fifteen miles away. Much too far away for them to get here on time. By the time they arrive, this black clothed robber will be long gone. Which leaves just me.

I may not be the biggest fan of Provincia, but I do know that I'm not going to let some innocent people get robbed of their hard earned money. I lean down to Angel and whisper, "Ange, when I say go, run as fast as your legs can carry you to the river." Angel opens her mouth, probably to ask me what crazy idea I was thinking of, but I interrupt her by saying, "Don't ask questions. Just do what I say." She nods, understanding me. "Now," I say, "Get in line." She obeys.

"Be carful, Fangie," Angel whispers. I flash her one of my trademark smirks.

"I'll be fine." I quickly scan the area. The pavement is hard and rocky. Trash litters the floor. Colorful banners are suspended on a wire. Aha, that is it. I trail one end of the wire to the second story balcony of the building to my left. Using my inhuman speed, I slip into the building which turns out to be a restaurant. Utensils and food still litter the now abandoned tables. I snatch a tough looking cloth napkin from an askew chair, and I quickly locate the nearest stairs going up.

When I finally arrive at the balcony the wire is attached to, I am shaking in my boots. According to my calculations, this plan should go smoothly. Now, all I have to do is muster up my courage to carry out this plan. I take a deep breath, calming myself, and I loop the napkin over the wire. When I make sure that it is secure and that I have a good grip on it, I exhale and jump.

 **HAHAHAHA! Cliffie! Question: How much do you want to kill me right now? Remember, more reviews, the sooner Fang's chapter will come up! Hehe. Oh, and do you guys think I should make these chapters longer, or are they fine just the way they are? Please let me know in a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, it's me. Honestly, I'm kinda disappointed that I got no reviews. But, here's the next chapter as promised, although this one is from Max. Sorry! Fang will just have to wait since I want to keep up with the alternating POV's.**

 **Max POV:**

When I turn to leave, my foot accidentally knocks over a nearby trash can, thus spilling dirty garbage all over me. "Gah!" I groan. "Fabulous, I'm gonna smell like the dumpster for the rest of the day." Although I managed to get most of the disgusting trash off me, there were still several spots showing on my uniform. I'll have to wash it as soon as I get home.

The second I step out of the training room, someone slams into me. We both go down with a chorus of 'oomph's', and I feel someone's high heels jab me painfully in the stomach. Even though my stomach is hard due to all my training, being jabbed by high heels hurts. "Urgh," I moan.

"What the hell? Watch where you're going, you little piece of-" I cut of whoever is pissing me off by glaring into her dark green eyes. This shuts the girl up. She has a face plastered with makeup, so she almost looks like a fake barbie doll. Brilliant red hair tumbles down her shoulders in curls. Just by looking at her clothing, I can tell immediately that this girl is definitely a slut.

"Would you please put on some clothes? You know, in case you haven't noticed, we're in a freaking military facility," I say. It's true. She wears a white blouse that is ten times too small, showing off a little more than necessary. To match the blouse, the girl also wears a pink strip of cloth that can most definitely not qualify as a skirt. Her hideous pink high heels are the source of the damage to my stomach. "Sorry, but the dumpster for discarded makeup victims is on the other side of the city," I say. The girl glares at me.

"Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Actually, no." The girl looks at me in anger.

"I'm Lissa Parmin! **(sorry, forgot her actual last name. Was it even mentioned in the MR books?)"**

I frown, then snicker, remembering my scanning of the military files. "Oh! Lissa Parmin, 16, became a member on July 14th, 2345. Now, you are participating as…oh, a Distraction!" Lissa tosses her long red hair.

"Yes," she says proudly. I roll my eyes. I don't really like Distractions, but unfortunately, they are effective. The Distractions are basically a bunch of slutty girls. We use them to sometimes distract guards while we try to get into buildings under security. I've seen some of the Distractions do their work, and let me tell you, it has scarred me forever. I am not going to go into any details as I don't want to relive those moments.

Lissa wrinkles her nose. "What the hell are you? Oh, are you a poor garbage cleaner who just happened to find the old suit of a high ranking military officer?" She looks me up and down, taking in my polished black boots, and my now dirty navy blue uniform with the gold buttons. There is no badge. Damn it, it must have fallen off somewhere. No wonder this slut is clueless about my ranking. Seriously though, do I look like a garbage cleaner? Well, maybe I smell like one. Lissa continues insulting me. "Awww," she says with mock sympathy. "The poor little garbage cleaner is probably street scum the military officials found useful as a garbage cleaner. Omg, your hair looks like a raccoon's nest? Why, you can't even afford a brush?"

I laugh. "For the record, I'm not the kind of person who gets up at five in the morning just to look pretty. Well, being a Distraction, I guess we could make an exception, but honestly…makeup just clouds your fake tan. You look like an orange!" Lissa's face turns, red, and she stomps her foot, nearly breaking her high heel.

She sneers. "You think you have a reputation around here?"

I roll my eyes. "As a matter of fact, I do." Lissa smirks.

"Yeah? Like what? Oh!" Her eyes light up with recognition. "Hey, you look an awful lot like that murderer con who was killed a few days ago, Maria Graph? Yeah, you both have the same messed up hair, and barfed up chocolate eyes." Lissa begins to laugh hysterically at the description of my eyes. "And your body build? Probably got those fat rolls from your dad. Was he a con too? Also killed by the military you're working for right now?" Now, I want to make some things clear.

First off, I'm way skinnier than Lissa. Second, my eyes do NOT look like barfed off chocolate. But it isn't the comments about my appearance that enrages me. It's the insults this girl throws at my parents. Within seconds, I am pinning her to the wall with my hand around her throat. "What did you say about my parents?" I ask calmly. Lissa begins to look afraid.

I lean close and hiss with murder in my eyes. "You think my parents are street cons? Well, let me tell you a little something. Do you know Anne Ride and Jeb Ride?" I release my choke hold just slightly so that Lissa can speak.

"Yeah," she sputters. "They were the famous officers who died in combat."

"Yes," I say. "And what were they famous for?" Lissa thought for a moment.

"I think they're the ones who figured out the enemy's puzzle trap for ambushing and managed to change Provincian army's course. We won several successful major battles after that. Unfortunately, the two Rides died during one of those battles."

"A plus for you, Miss Parmin," I say sarcastically. "Here's a little something. You just made fun of those very same famous military officials." At first, she doesn't get it. Then her eyes widen.

"You're Maximum Ride?" I nod. For a fraction of a second, she looks so scared she might have let it go in her skirt, but then she sneers. "Bull," she smirks, although I see there isn't as much confidence as before. "You can't be the military prodigy everyone talks about. You're not pretty enough!" Without another word, Lissa saunters away. I let her go. I'll complain about her later. Rolling my eyes, I turn and smack face first into a bare, sweaty, and broad chest.

"Whf the?" I mumble into toned skin before pulling away to gaze into startling turquoise eyes.

"Hello, sweetheart," says Dylan. I cross my arms.

"For the millionth time, I'm gonna remind you once again that I'm not your sweetheart nor am I sweetheart to anyone else." He holds up his hands in surrender as I give him the death glare.

"Okay, okay," he says. "The only name I'll call you is Agent Ride." I smile.

"That's better."

"So," Dylan says as he leans against the concrete wall. "Wanna go to the spring festival tonight? I'll pick you up at your place." I shrug. Dylan and I have been…well, I guess you would call it dating for the past couple weeks. He is a genuinely sweet person, and I guess we can make it work. I grin.

"Sure," I say. "What time?"

"6:30," Dylan says. "Don't be late."

 **LINE BREAK**

"OMG!" squeals Ella and Nudge at the exact same time. "Hold on! We're coming right over!" The phone line goes dead.

Ten minutes later, a hot pink convertible pulls up outside my apartment. Nudge and Ella hop out loaded with dozens of bags which are no doubt stuffed with makeup and dresses and shoes. I groan as they ring the doorbell crazily. Time to let the torture begin.

Reluctantly, I open the door, and immediately they whisk me away. I'm stuffed into the bathroom with a dress bag in my hands. The dress is a deep blue, with a v neck so low, it shows a little more cleavage than I would prefer, not to mention the the dress barely goes over my butt.

"No!" I yell into the hallway. Nudge opens the door, takes one look at me and yelps.

"No!" she yells, which was exactly what I yelled. Nudge tosses me a caramel colored bag and disappears. This one isn't much better. It's an ugly shade of brown, but I admit it covers much more than the previous dress. Again, I shake my head and call for Nudge. Dress after dress, yet I still can't find one that suits me. Finally, Ella and Nudge run out of dresses. One glance at the clock tells me that it's nearly six. Knowing Nudge and Ella, it'll take them at least thirty minutes to do makeup.

We sit on the bed, pondering what to do. All of a sudden, Ella springs up from the mattress, her long brown hair flying. "I've got it!" she says triumphantly. Nudge and I turn to look at her.

"What?" I ask. Ella grins evilly.

"It's time for my house," she says. Oh no.

Fifteen minutes, we find the perfect mix and match outfit from Ella's humongous walk in closet. I'm wearing a red tank top that covers just the right amount of skin, an open black leather jacket, and black skinny jeans. Black combat boots fit snugly on my feet. Next, Nudge and Ella yank me into a giant plush swivel chair. They begin to jab things into my eyes, smash lipstick onto my lips, and smear all sorts of creams over my skin. When they are finally done with torturing me, I take a look at the mirror and gasp.

I had expected to see a slut, but instead, Nudge and Ella had gone easy with the makeup. I have black mascara coating my eyelashes, making them seem longer than usual. Foundation coats my face so that any blemishes are hidden. Finally, a coat of blood red lipstick that matches my tank top is on my lips. Huh, even I have to admit to myself that I looked pretty badass.

"So?" Nudge asked excitedly. "What do you think?" I hugged them both.

"I love it," I say. "Thanks!" Suddenly, my phone vibrates. I pick it up to answer the call. When I see the time, I nearly choke. "Oh crap!" I nearly shout. The time on my phone shows that it is 6:45. Dylan is probably at my apartment, wondering where I am! I answer the call.

"Uh, Max, where are you?" asks Dylan. I groan.

"Dyl, I'm so sorry. Ella dragged Nudge and me over to her place to help me get ready, and I forgot to tell you. Geez, I'm so sorry. I'll be over right away." Dylan laughs.

"I figured something like this would happen. It's okay, Max, I'll meet you at your apartment." I end the call and slip my phone and ID card into my pockets, and Nudge drives me back to my apartment. There is a black limousine parked on the street, and a blond head is poking out of one of its windows.

"Hey," Dylan says with one of his easy going smiles. His eyes roam over my body, and I blush. "Wow. You look hot."

"You too," I say shyly. Thankfully, Dylan hasn't gone tuxedo on me. Instead, he's wearing a dark blue sweatshirt and jeans. He gets out of the car and opens the door for me like a gentlemen.

"Ladies first," he says. I grin and slip into the limo.

The spring festival is held not to far from where I live. It has been about five minutes before I see the dazzling blinking lights. "Wow," I breathe. The scene is like a picture from a fairy tale. Every where there carrousels, booths, and diners. There's even a huge blank space with hundreds of people dancing to lively music. To top it all off, there is a giant Ferris wheel strung with multi-colored lights. The entire place is aglow with light of different colors. The limo drops us off near the entrance, and Dylan and I get off. We go to the ticket booth where the man there looks at us.

"Two teens, that's eighty dollars," he says. I stare at him.

"What?" I ask disbelievingly. "That much just for two people?" The man shrugs.

"Sorry kids, but I don't make the rules here." I frown, then an idea pops into my head.

I slap down my identification card I pulled out from my pocket. The man squints at the card, then his jaw drops open as he reads the words. "Oh!" he exclaimed, fear evident in his voice. "Right this way, Ms. Ride." He slips a card into my hand. "Free access to anything that costs money!" I smile.

"Thank you," I say. I push past the red velvet ropes, and Dylan tries to follow me, but a big burly security guard shoves him back. "Hey!" I snap. "He's with me." The man yells something at the guard in a different language. The guard sheepishly backs up to allow Dylan to pass. He slips his arm protectively around my waist, and I lean into his side as we walk. "So, where to next?" I ask him.

"I think the Ferris wheel should be our first stop," Dylan replies. I nod, and we get in the mile long line. When we finally arrive at the front, a woman straps us into a cart with a bright smile.

"Enjoy your ride!" she says, obviously pinning us as a couple. The cart is big enough for us to have our own little space, but I scoot closer to Dylan and snuggle into his shoulder. In return, he puts his arm around me just as the Ferris wheel begins to move. I watch the San Francisco skyline in fascination as our cart moves higher and higher. The wind whips my caramel hair around my face, but I ignore the strands that disturb my vision.

"This is amazing," I murmur. The distant city lights look like twinkling stars against the black of the night. Dylan pecks me on the cheek.

"I totally agree," he says. We stay that way for a while, just me and him, watching the lights.

Suddenly, our cart screeches and comes to a halt. I turn white as I peek over the side. "Oh, hell no," I breathe raggedly. We are at the very top of the Ferris wheel. God, I hate heights. What if we fall? What if we're in this position forever?

Dylan glances over at me. "Scared of heights?" he asks. I nod, all the blood drained from my face. Someone down on the ground announces that there is a minor problem with the wheel mechanisms, and that the problem will be fixed very soon. All I do is cling to the cart's safety bar and pray to whatever God watching over Provincia that I'll get down the earth safely.

Finally, _finally_ , the cart begins to move again. I don't breathe until the cart has come to a safe spot near the ground, and it has come to a complete stop. Dylan hops out, and holds his hand out to help me down. I try to unclench my hands from the safety bar, but my white knuckles don't budge. I try again to no avail. "Is something wrong?" Dylan asks.

"Umm, I can't unclench my fingers," I say. Dylan gently reaches over and pries my fingers from the bar and helps me down. I practically throw myself to the ground, and mime kissing the earth. "Oh, beautiful earth, I shall never part from you again." Dylan laughs, and pulls me up. I brush off the dirt specks off my tank top and ask Dylan, "Where to next?" He grins.

"I was thinking about that giant square with the dancing people."

"Oh," I say, remembering the large area where lively music was being played. "Let's go!"

It wasn't hard to find the square. You could hear the pop music blasting from a mile away. As we stepped onto the smooth concrete, Dylan pulls me into his arms. "Let's rock the night, shall we?" I don't answer. Instead, I pull away and begin to sway my hips to the music. I don't remember much what happens for the next hour or so. I only remember dancing, laughing, and giggling.

What I do know is that one second I'm doing this awesome dance/fighting routine, and the next I'm pushed up against a brick wall with Dylan's lips pressed against mine. I'm dizzy, not from being drunk but from all the spinning I have been doing. I kiss him back hungrily, reaching for more. Then warm fingers slip under my tank and press against the small of my back. I lean into Dylan even more, not caring that we were in public. "Hey!" Someone shouts. "Get a room!" I ignore the complaint. Suddenly, Dylan pulls away as if remembering something. Both our breaths are ragged, and our cheeks are redder than tomatoes.

"Max, sorry, but I really, really have to go to the bathroom," he says embarrassed. I wave my hand.

"It's fine. Just hurry." Dylan disappears within the dancing crowd. I make my way over to an unoccupied bench and sit down, ignoring the longing looks several guys gave me as they passed. I pull out my phone and see a text from Ella.

 _Ella: Hey! How's it going?_

I quickly text back.

 _Max: Great! Rite now I'm waiting 4 Dyl to get back from bathroom._

 _Ella: Seriously?_

I can almost see her rolling her eyes.

 _Max: Yeah, but I guess he's just doing his daily bodily functions._

 _Ella: K. I hope u have a great time! Oh, BTW, Nudge wants me 2 tell u that if u dare get ur clothes and makeup all messed up, she's gonna come at u with a curling iron. Bye!_

 _Max: Bye!_

I smile. I didn't question Nudge for a second about coming at me with one of the worst weapons in the universe: a curling iron. Hopefully, things will never come to that. I glance at the time on my phone screen. It's been ten minutes since Dylan left to go to the bathroom. I frown. Surely it didn't that that long to dispose of your waste. I stand up. I'm gonna find Dylan.

An hour later, yet no sign of Dylan. I am starting to get hungry, so I slide into the nearest café. I order a chocolate sprinkled donut and a caramel frappé. My favorites. The donut is extinct within seconds, and the frappé is slurped down. I wipe my mouth, and then I stand up to leave. Just as I'm about to step out of the booth, Dylan and and a girl with fiery red hair step into the café. I stare uncomprehendingly at Dylan's arm around the girl's waist. I also stare as he gives her a quick peck on the lips. Then he noticed me looking at him.

His eyes widen as he sees me. The girl turns, and I get a better look at her face. It's none other than Lissa, the Distraction I met earlier. Oh, God no, what? But Dylan is my boyfriend. Wait, the bathroom, it all clicks into place. "What the hell are you doing with her?" I choke out. Tears well up in my eyes, and my throat becomes uncomfortably clogged.

"Please let me explain," Dylan pleads. I walk up to him and shove his chest.

"You don't need to," I say coldly. A single tear streaks down my face. "I can tell that you're having a wonderful time with your new girlfriend."

"Please Max," says Dylan. "This isn't what it looks like…" His voice trails off as I give him the deadliest death glare I had ever given.

"Don't even start," I snarl. Without another word, I stomp off, wiping furiously at the tears that are starting to leak from my eyes.

 **Awww, poor Max! Just to make some things clear, in the books, Dylan is honestly a genuinely sweet guy, but in this fanfic, he's a…well, some words so bad I won't say them for the younger readers. Anyway, I'm really hoping for at least three reviews this time. Don't break my heart again!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yay! We reached my goal! Thank you for your reviews! Well, here's the next chapter, just as promised! Enjoy, dear readers!**

 **Fang POV:**

My injured shoulder screams in protest as several thoughts rush through my head as I crazily zip line towards the robber. One, why the hell am I doing this? Two, I am friggin crazy. Three, well, the list goes on. Time seems to slow. I see the robber turning in slow motion to face me, I see Angel's astonished face in the long line, and I see a a few people look at me, gawking.

When I'm about two feet away from the robber, I let go of the napkin and fall…and smash my feet into the man's face. He cries out and stumbles backward, clutching his nose which is now gushing blood. Instantly, I bend down and whip out one of my knives I had tucked into my boots. With an expert kick, the gun is flying out of the man's hand. It lands about two feet away from Angel who immediately snatches it up. But this guy isn't going down without a fight. Although I have the advantage with a knife, this guy evades my every strike. Suddenly, he disappears. I do a 360, looking for the man. The next thing I know, at least one hundred and eighty pounds of human slams into my back. My face is smashed into the concrete. Thankfully, my arms are free, so with all my strength, I jab the knife into the robber. The sickening feeling of a blade sliding into flesh, a strangled scream.

He falls, and I leap to my feet. To my disappointment, the knife has only wounded his side. In triumph, and to my disgust and horror, the man yanks out the knife, oblivious to the blood gushing out of his side. He charges at me, and I barely manage to evade the sharp jab he had aimed at my chest. He comes at with so much speed, when I leap to the side, the force makes me fall…and into the crowd. Everyone screams as the man crashes through them, knife in hand. I scramble to my feet. I have to find Angel. As much as I hate pointing out to the crazy man that she's my sister, she could get hurt as he tries to find me in this huge crowd. Wait, that's it!

I mentally cheer despite running for my life. All I need to do is get out of this crowd. I push and shove my way through warm and panicked bodies. After what seems like ages, I finally break free of the crowd. I start running, but then a cold and smooth voice stops me in my tracks. "Looking for someone, Fang?"

I whirl around. The man in black is holding Angel in a headlock with my knife pressed against her throat. My little sister is crying, and it tears at my heart to see her this way. "Take one more step," says the man, "and your little sister dies." I snarl and fight the urge to lunge at him and strangle him, cut him into hundreds of pieces, and feed him to crocodiles, but I refrain from doing so. Instead, I do what any big brother in my situation would do: I try to stall for time.

"How do you know she's my sister, and how do you know my name?" I ask cooly, surprises that my voice isn't shaking. I can almost see the man smirk under his hood.

"Well, she was yelling and screaming, 'Fang!' She's obviously too young to be your girlfriend, and since she seems so concerned about you, I figured that she's probably your sister."

"Fang," Angel chokes out. "Just go!"

"What? No! Are you crazy?" I roar. "It's this guy that's gonna go! I'm not gonna leave you with some unknown-probably-a-murderer-guy!"

"Oh really?" says the man. "Am I really unknown?" He tosses back his head, and the hood falls back to reveal…the boy who warned me about the exploding pie.

"Surprise?" he says, wiggling his eyebrows. My jaw groups.

"You?" I sputter.

"Yes," he agrees. "Me." I take a step forward, but freeze as he slices a shallow cut in Angel's throat. A thin line of blood trickles from the wound. "Don't move," the man-no, the boy-orders. I glare at him.

"What do you want?" I growl.

"I want you to come with me," he says in a deadly calm voice.

"Sure!" I say excitedly. This catches him off guard. In that moment, I take action. I bend down and whip out my other knife as quick as lightning, and with all my strength, I throw the knife at the arm that holding Angel. The boy screams as the knife sinks into his arm, nearly to the hilt. He lets go of Angel who scrambles and hides behind me.

The boy growls, a menacing sound as he yanks out the knife and hisses in pain. Damn it, now he has two knives. All of a sudden, a panicked civilian crashes into the boy, sending both of them sprawling. In the process, the boy looses my two knives. They clatter to the ground. I watch in horror as another person, this one a woman, accidentally kicks the knives into the sewer. Oh ship. Looks like this is gonna be a fist fight. The boy gets up, let's out a an angry shout, and barrels towards me. His fist connects with my jaw despite my effort to dodge it, and my head snaps painfully to the side. I let out a grunt as he punches my gut.

I duck as he takes another swing at at my face. Twisting, I launch into a series of kicks and punches, each one connecting. He swings blindly, and he gets a lucky shot. I fly backwards into a brick wall, my head smacking against it hard. Pain shoots through my skull, and through my fuzzy vision I see the boy roar in fury. Then, to my disbelief, he crouches and begins to morph.

His jaw lengthens out, and his eyes turn yellow. Fur sprouts from his skin. Wickedly long claws slide out from his hands-no, his friggin paws-! When he growls this time, it is much more than the sound that comes from the throat of an ordinary human. It's feral, wild, untamed. I try to scramble back as he advances, but unfortunately there is a wall behind me. He has me cornered.

"Wha-what the hell are you?" I gasp. The wolf grins, showing all of his disgusting and sharp and yellow teeth.

"Finally, an actual introduction. I'm Ari, and I'm an Eraser. Now, prepare to die!" He lunges at me, claws extended. I barely manage to dodge it, and then I run into the nearest diner. I didn't have a good idea, but the cooking utensils in the kitchen were probably pretty lethal.

I run as fast as I can and arrive in the kitchen. There are knives and various assortments of unprepared food scattered among the many kitchen counters. I snatch up a meat cleaver covered in blood, hopefully an animal's, not a person's. The cleaver feels big and heavy, different from the thin and lightweight knives I'm used to. I grip the smooth wooden handle tighter just as the Eraser barges into the kitchen. Why is Ari called that anyway? Is it supposed to mean like 'I'm gonna ERASE you from existence'?

Right, back to the present. The Eraser charges towards me, and I thrust out my knife. Sadly, only a couple centimeters make their way into the hairy chest of the wolf man, but it's enough to make him howl in pain. I rip out the knife and try to stab Ari again, but this time his clawed paw-wait, it changed into a furry hand- grabs my wrist and squeezes. I hear a sickening crack and pain shoots through my wrist. He must have broken it. I try to pull away, but I succeed in only damaging my wrist even more. Ari brings his smelly muzzle close to my face.

"Is that all you can do?" he sneers. "You know, the School talked about you so highly, like you're the greatest thing this century. Well, guess what, you aren't." He pins me to the tiled wall with his furry hand over my throat.

"What's the School?" I choke out, trying desperately to stall for time. Ari grins savagely.

"You'll find out soon enough. You're gonna come with me, like it or not."

I snort. "Please, like I'm gonna go,anywhere with a freak so ugly even his own mama didn't want to see his face." Okay, so maybe that was pretty mean. Ari snarls, and he swings me around so that I'm no longer pressed against the wall. I start to choke as he tightens his grip on my throat and raises me into the air. My legs kick to no avail, and my hands claw frantically at his furry hand. My air supply is running dangerously low. I can't breathe.

The edges of my vision are turning black. I'm lightheaded, and I feel like I'm about to faint. Just when I think I would pass out, I hear a loud bang, and a howl of pain. The grip on my throat loosens, and I crumple to the floor, sucking in air like crazy.

Through my hazy vision, I see my little sister standing at the door, holding a smoking gun in her hand. The gun she picked up earlier after I had kicked it out of Ari's hand! Ari is on the ground, blood pooling on the floor at his side. "Thanks, Ange," I wheeze, still trying to suck oxygen back into my lungs.

"Hurry," Angel urges. "We have to get out of here." I stumble to my feet, or at least I try to. Before I can stand properly, Ari, who apparently isn't unconscious, take a swipe at me. His long and sharp claws rake through my side. White-hot agony engulfs my side, and I think I screamed for about a second.

I'm blinded by the pain. My body can't move, no matter how much my brain screams at it to get moving. I feel an arm wrap around my waist as poor Angel does her best to haul my one hundred and fifty pounds **(is that a reasonable weight for Fang? He's seventeen.)** to safety. Slowly we make our way through the kitchen, inch by inch. Then I hear a low moan, and I know without looking that Ari is about to hit us.

Weakly, I force myself to stand while my shredded side screams. With the last of my strength, I grab a giant frying pan off the stove and whack Ari over the head with it. He collapses, and goes still. I've strained myself too much. Against my will, my mind slowly fades out of reality, and I slip into unconsciousness.

 _I'm in our old kitchen, the one with the lively green tiled floor, and light blue walls. Mom is humming a little lullaby while she stirs the cookie batter. Angel is cutting out cookies with various shapes of cookie cutters. My favorite one is the dinosaur while Angel's favorite is a dolphin. I remember this day. I'm nine years old, and Angel is four._

 _Outside, the birds are sitting in brilliant green trees, chirping little tunes under a cloudless blue sky. The sun shines warm and brightly, lighting up our cozy kitchen._

 _I'm not helping with the cookie making at all. Instead, I sneak a lick of the cookie batter every now and then. So far, I haven't been caught yet. I flick my eyes toward the large silver cookie tray sitting next to the oven. There were three dinosaurs, two stars, five circles, and seven dolphins. Of course Angel made her favorite the most. I turn back to the light pink mixing bowl sitting in front of me. Once I make sure mom has her back turned to me, I cautiously dip my right index finger into the batter. I quickly retract it and stick the finger into my mouth. Mmhm, chocolate._

 _I reach my finger back into the bowl for another helping, but a warm and playful voice scolds, "Nicholas Jonathan Walker!" I gulp._

 _"Yes?" I squeak, looking up. My mom stands in front of me with her hands on her hips. Her flowered chef's apron is splattered with bits of cookie batter, and her hat is lopsided. Even so, she looks beautiful. Her platinum blond hair tumbles down her shoulders in curls, and her deep blue eyes sparkled with liveliness. Even as she scolds me, she's laughing like she doesn't have a care in the world._

 _Angel looks so much like her, dad and I sometimes joke that they're sisters. In return, they say we're like brothers, which could be true. Angel takes after my mom, I take after dad. We both have the same olive skin, black hair and eyes, and quiet personalities._

 _Just then, dad strolls into the kitchen. He grins at his happy family, and he dips his fingers into the cookie batter as well. Before he could suck on his batter-caked fingers, mom swatts his hand away from his mouth. "Oh," she says, faking exasperation, "not you too!" Dad laughs, then sucks on his fingers. Mom sighs._

 _"You know," she says slyly. "Unbaked cookie batter is poisonous. Just thought I'd throw that little piece of information out there." Immediately, dad and I begin choking. Dad runs to the kitchen sink, and attempts to retch. I break down in tears._

 _"Mommy?" I wail. "Am I gonna die because of the delicious cookie batter?"_

 _"Awww, Nicky, I was only kidding!" she giggles. Then she softens, seeing my heartbroken expression. "Oh, I'm so sorry," mom coos reassuringly, pulling me into a hug. "I only meant it as a little joke!"_

 _Dad came up beside me. "Really, Martha, that was kinda cruel. You made me puke up perfectly good cookie batter for nothing! Not to mention they were chocolate!" Mom laughs before pulling us into a big group hug._

 _My face smothered into dad's shoulder, I hear Angel stomp over and whine, "Why am I not included in this?" She sounds like she's about to cry. I pull away and open my arms. Angel eagerly throws herself into my arms, and I close them, ensnaring her in a warm hug. Then I feel mom and dad throwing themselves on top of me as well. Call us a mushy family, but let me tell you something. Stuff like this rarely happens since usually my parents are out of the house. Today is special, so I allow myself to close my eyes and feel completely safe in the arms of everyone I love._

 **Yay, so a sweet little cookie making flashback. Ouch, poor Fang. Review for next chapter, and if you don't want Fang to die of his injuries! Let's try for five reviews!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, so no reviews. That means Fang dies! I'm kidding, but I'm serious, please review! Oh well, that's okay as long as you guys are reading this story. On with chapter six!**

 **Max POV:**

I'm not crying because of being dumped. I'm crying because I was so stupid not to figure out that Dylan might dump me. Now I'm sitting on my couch staring off into space. It's already 22:23 **(for you lazy bones who don't want to do the math, it's 10:23)**. I'm still mad at Max, but I'm sorta glad he dumped me. Why? Because now he has to put up with Lissa! Huh, I hope he suffers!

"Why were you so damn dumb?" I mumble to myself for the millionth time that night. I rub my hands, trying to warm the cool skin. "Why?" I sigh. Truth to be told, I don't really know.

Bored out of my mind, I grab the remote sitting on the brown coffee table and switch on the flat screen TV. Nothing much is on except for this movie about a gang of thieves. I watch as two men slide into the museum by ropes as thick as an average person's arm. As I watch, they tiptoe to the giant glass case encasing the legendary ruby, I roll my eyes. Idiots. They should retract the ropes. If someone comes in, even if the robbers can hide, the security guard will see the ropes dangling from an open ceiling. Gee, wonder who that would be.

The thieves are now cracking the code to the case. It pops open, and a thief greedily reaches out to grab the glittering ruby. The second his fingers touch it, alarms start blaring. I switch off the TV. Time to do something else.

I am thinking of giving maybe Ella or Nudge to come over when my phone rings. I glance at the caller ID. My eyes widens as I see MP-Martinez. Quickly, I snatch up the phone and answer the call.

"Yes, commander?" I say into the receiver.

"Ride," Commander Martinez says urgently. Judging from the tone of her grave voice, something is seriously wrong. "I need you to get to the San Francisco military facility immediately."

"Why?" I ask, confused. It's ten thirty. What does she want?

"It's classified information. I can't say over the phone. Just hurry!" The line goes dead.

I sigh, and I go to my room to change.

 **LINE BREAK**

The official name for the military facility in San Francisco is the Great Army Hall of San Francisco. Almost every major city has one. There's a reason it's called 'great' as well. I'm standing at the front entrance, and although I've been to this building many times before, I still crane my neck to gaze at the towering corinthian columns supporting a domed white marble roof streaked with lines of gold. There are no windows however, since the military tends to want to keep things a secret. I step through the giant cherry wood double doors and step onto a red carpet. Lights blink everywhere.

I scan my ID card and a retina scanner checks my eye. Next are finger prints, then a face and voice check. In case if you haven't already figured it out, this place is extremely tight on security. Finally, I make it to room 87 where I'm supposed to meet the commander. The door opens by itself and I'm greeted by Commander Martinez. She practically pulls me by the ear to the computer that's being swarmed by agents.

"Move!" she bellows. Everyone scatters.

"What's the problem?" I ask. Commander Martinez nods at the screen.

I quickly scan it. There's a name: Ari Batchelder. Underneath there's a picture of a blonde haired boy with piercing blue eyes **(forgot what he looked like. Gee, I forget a lot of things)**. This is the profile minus the picture:

 **Name: Ari Batchelder**

 **Age: 17**

 **Height: 5'11**

 **Weight: 178**

 **Status: Alive**

 **Occupation: Assassin**

 **Military Status: Most dangerous criminal alive.**

 ***profile picture***

"He's escaped from Dexna," explains Commander Martinez. My jaw falls. No possible way in hell.

"Dexna?" I ask, disbelief lacing my voice. She nods. That's impossible. Dexna is like Provincia's most secure prison. No one, I mean no one ever escapes from Dexna. The thing is, if you try to escape, the guards let you. They know that even if you make it out of the cells which is highly unlikely, the traps laid outside will kill you for sure. I know, happy atmosphere.

"Batchelder escaped," continues Commander Martinez, "and we believe he's around the area of Las Vegas, Nevada, judging from the number of killings that have occurred in that area.

"Your mission is to hunt down Batchelder, and bring him back here dead or alive. Preferably alive, so be careful."

"But why me?" I ask. "He's a rank A criminal." The commander smiles tightly.

"I apologize, but the rank A agents want to see how well you can handle a tough situation. They're taking Batchelder's escape as an opportunity to train you."

"What if I die?" I complain. The commander gives me a sad look.

"Then you die. They want to see how well the military prodigy does in order to see how to train future prodigies." My fists clench. Seriously? So they really do want to see me die for nothing. This is a freaking death mission!

"And what if I don't want to oblige?" I ask calmly. Inside however, I'm scared out of my mind. I'm surprised that my voice didn't shake.

"Sorry, Ride, but you don't really have a choice. If you didn't, the military could always threaten your friends. Don't forget, they're in our hands as well." My nails dig into my skin, drawing blood. I had known that Provincia's military is ruthless, but now I'm experiencing it right now.

"Fine," I growl. I make a mental note inside my head. As soon as I get back from this mission, I'm withdrawing from the military. Commander Martinez seems to read my mind.

"Sorry, kiddo, can't even do that. Now, some rules. You will have an earpiece and a mouthpiece so headquarters can communicate with you. You are suppose to dress like an ordinary poor civilian. No guns." I start to complain when she cuts me off with a look.

"Rumor has it that Batchelder has an accomplice that is excellent with computers. He or she can easily trace the gun back to you, and if Batchelder knows your on his case, he'll come after you." I nodded. Inside, I wanted to rip apart the rank A agents for sending me, a agent between rank B and A. I'm young, sixteen and inexperienced while all the rank A agents are like thirty or forty. They have dealt with more than me. The commander tosses me a pile of clothes.

"Go change, Ride," she orders. I obey and slip into the nearest bathroom. Five minutes later, I stand in front of the mirror, nervously fiddling the hem of a ratty old shirt that smells worse than cow waste. The shirt might have been white once upon a time, but now it was a crusty brown. Eew. I'm wearing black trousers that may smell rancid, but at least they are comfortable. I exit the bathroom and return to room 87.

Commander Martinez gestures to the table behind her. "To make up for no guns, I gathered quite a large assortment of weapons that can't be traced back to you. Problem is, this all belongs to the military, and they are only going to allow you to choose three. Choose wisely. You have ten minutes before you board a train heading to Las Vegas." She leans in.

"And some girl advice. Don't go to any clubs. Please." I understand her warning. I don't say anything as I turn to the table. There are knives, swords, slingshots, axes, and much more. All are old school. I'm no good with axes or bows, and I highly doubt that slingshots will do much damage. That leaves me the swords and knives.

I run my hands over the hilts, wondering which ones to choose. "Eight minutes," the commander calls. I select a pair of thin and long twin swords which I strap to my back in an X. Even though Vegas is famous and a good tourist attraction, the city is still poor, so it won't be a surprise to see a sixteen year old to be walking around with swords. Actually, many of the poor have weapons like swords since guns are too expensive. Good. The better I fit in, the better.

"Two," says Commander Martinez. I have to choose quickly. Quickly, I select a thin knife which I slip into my combat boot. I check that everything is secure, and the commander calls time. I take a deep breath. I'm gonna die.

The train is a bullet train, one of the very few that still works. Despite having a first class seat, I'm in a sour mood. Even the music playing in the overhead speakers doesn't help. There really isn't really anything to do besides reading magazines, so I decide to take a nap. I curl up in my seat, and close my eyes.

 **Sorry, short chappie, but important. I know you this kinda sounds like the Hunger Games, but I couldn't think of a better way to send Max on a mission. Please let me know what you think about this chapter in a review. I promise the next update will be longer! Four reviews= next update!**


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